


Overcoming

by witchzenka



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchzenka/pseuds/witchzenka
Summary: Bao-Dur, now a Jedi, tries to overcome the deeds of his past and atone.





	1. Bao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bao struggles with feelings for the Jedi Exile that he refuses to allow to come into bloom.

Bao-Dur crouched beside the battered little astromech droid as the two of them inspected the port engine. T3-M4, quirky, ingenious and cylindrical, beeped and whirred in a tone that could only be interpreted as doubtful, if not outright disparaging.  
"Yes, I see it," Bao-Dur said, tilting his bare head with its crown of small horns to the side. "It is definitely out of whack." Floating well above them, the Remote chirped. "That is a technical term," Bao retorted mildly, and the Remote gave its beeping laugh. "I don't know if you'll be quite so amused in a moment – you're the only one of us who can fit back there and repair those connections."  
T3 made a nearly inaudible sound. If it were an organic sentient, that sound would be a huff.  
Bao-Dur glanced at T3. "It will be faster this way," he said.  
T3 launched into a tirade of beeps and whistles.  
"Whoa, hold on!" Bao said, holding up a hand. "I know we could send you out to access the damage through the hull, but this is quicker and safer, and we don't need to drop out of hyperspace."  
The astromech droid began a furious rebuttal. Above them the Remote chimed in with its unhappy opinion of T3's reluctance to allow it to handle the repairs that had so long been T3's domain.  
A shadow moved across the doorway to the engine room, and Bao looked up.  
"What is going on in here?" the General asked, her mouth quirked, her voice amused. "I can only assume some sort of droid on droid violence is brewing." If there was anything Bao-Dur liked about the General, it was her dry sense of humor, and there were a lot of things Bao liked about her. He schooled his face and his emotions to calmness, to unadorned and respectful friendship.  
T3 wheeled around Bao to plead his case to the ex-Jedi who led them. The Remote began beeping in protest.  
"Calm down, you two," the General said. She walked in, with her smooth and graceful natural gait, and crouched down beside Bao. "They're like jealous siblings," she whispered to Bao-Dur. "Both worried the other holds more favor than they do."  
He chuckled, though the intimacy of both her tone and her close proximity caused an electric tension along his spine and in his gut. With a secret and silent effort, he shoved that tension and the feelings that caused it deep into his shadowed heart and mind.  
The droids quieted as Bao explained the trouble and the repairs needed to the General. She bent her head, focusing that dark, intent gaze on the areas he pointed to as he spoke. She never simply looked at anything – she absorbed it, her mind examining it from all angles as her eyes pinned and scrutinized. It could be disconcerting to be on the receiving end of one of those gazes.  
"I think this can be handled without dropping out of hyperspace," she said at last, offering Bao a wink before turning to the droids. "Obviously this task needs your expertise, T3. Best thing to do is for you and the Remote to work together on this. You supervise from here, and he'll zip on in." She looked at the Remote, who floated down to her eye level. Like any being who found itself within her orbit, even the Remote liked to be close to her. "You are the best droid for the actual contact work. I know you and T3 can get these repairs done quickly and without further conflict. I'm depending on the two of you to show the others the real meaning of 'fast and efficient teamwork' – especially the 'teamwork' part." She rose to her feet and gave each droid a quick, business-like nod as if they were as organic as she was. Bao rose as well at a gesture from her and followed her to the wide doorway.  
She leaned on the door jamb and crossed her arms, smiling up at Bao. He couldn't help but smile back, though he kept it much more subdued in intensity than the smile that wished to bubble up at her.  
"I think, if we give them the opportunity, they'll come to enjoy working together," she said. Her head turned and she looked around, down all three corridors that converged in front of the engine room. He watched the blue lights gleam violet on the shining copper braid she wore wound around her head, then felt jolted when her intense, dark chocolate gaze swung back to him.  
"To be completely honest," she said, as if honesty had ever been rare for her, "I'm sort of... avoiding... some of the others."  
His mouth quirked in a half grin, and he shook his head. "Let me guess, you're hiding from a lecture?"  
She grimaced. "Kreia mentioned that she wished to discuss my reactions to 'the blinded one' in more detail when I can 'settle' myself 'long enough for a serious discussion'."  
Bao laughed out loud at her spot-on impression of the elder woman. Emrethe leaned away from the doorjamb and toward Bao.  
"But it's not just her," she told him earnestly, her voice carefully low. As she spoke, Bao leaned back inconspicuously, making it seem as if he merely sought to rest his upper back against the jamb opposite her. "Mical follows me around being far too helpful and supportive, Atton endlessly wants to play pazaak, Visas just hovers and Mira wants to share all her hunting tips while accidentally spilling her childhood onto my lap. They all just... sort of... stick to me, and I need to breathe!"  
Bao raised his eyebrows, surprised. He'd always worked to maintain this deferential distance, and now that careful distance had caused her to seek him out. He considered quickly taking the coward's way out and claiming he had work to do, but the pleading in her splendid eyes stopped him cold.  
"If I simply go meditate, I will not be left alone," she whispered. "Even if by some miracle, they do not interrupt me, I will still feel them crowding close!"  
"Well," he said, his self-preserving reluctance concealed. "I've been meaning to ask you if you'd let me have a look at your lightsaber. If you come with me to the workbench, I think we have the right components to make some helpful upgrades."  
"Of course," she said, her voice returning to its normal volume. "This would be an excellent time to work on that. Lead on, old friend, let's get to work!" She flashed him a quick look of relief and gratitude.

Atton and the Disciple, Mical, stood back in the corridor, watching Emrethe and Bao as they worked, heads bent over the workbench, both completely unaware of anything but the small object they were working on.  
"Looks like a lens upgrade," Mical said helpfully. "For a lightsaber."  
Atton shot him a quelling look. "That's not completely obvious or anything. What would I do without you here to explain everything? Oh, that's right, I'd be busy being glad."  
Mical gave him an uncertain look, but held his tongue. After a moment they both turned back to watch the two working over the workbench.  
"What is it with them?" Atton muttered. "Give them a hydrospanner, a pile of junk, and a workbench and they get all techno-gooey or something."  
"She has many talents," Mical said. "And her skills-"  
"Shut up," Atton said sourly, and stalked back toward the cockpit.


	2. Dxun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ebon Hawk has crashed on a moon Bao considers the next planet to Hell.

Dxun was surely a fragment of some jungle-hell. It was suffocatingly hot and close, the pathways wretched, rugged, and unworthy of the name. Rain poured down over them, hissing when it hit the bare energy of Bao's artificial arm, each drop nearly as blistering as the air itself.  
The small wisps of hair that worked themselves loose of Emrethe's braid clung to her face and neck in wet swathes, her lightweight Jedi robes heavy and clinging from the rain. Her skin was flushed from the heat, but her eyes were cold and distant, her thoughts only half in the present, the other half lost in the blood, pain, and fear of nearly a decade ago.  
She glanced at Bao as they trudged along, her gaze resting only barely on him. He made no outward gesture of support, of shared remembrance, but she must have felt it anyway. She gave him a nod, half of acknowledgment, half her own offer of support to him.  
In this old place of battle, the ground, the jungle itself was as scarred physically as the two of them were somewhere inside. As with the two of them, most of the scars lay well concealed unless one had seen the making of them.  
On Emrethe's other side, Visas moved with as much grace as another might in a ballroom. Her chin was tilted up, her delicate features resolute. The wine-colored head-covering was sodden, the leather vest and silk robes slick with moisture. Though she had to be completely uncomfortable, no discomfort showed on her face. It was if she took some grim and obscure pleasure in the hellish and physically demanding environment. She seemed to relish an exterior hell that drowned out her internal one. Bao supposed he felt a little of the same, or would, anywhere but Dxun.  
Kreia walked behind them. For an old woman, she seemed to have few of the creaks and aches of another her age. Even Dxun itself did not dare besmirch her iron-clad dignity. Though her clothes were as wet as everyone else's, they did not cling or clump or impede her movement. There had been moments in their travels when Kreia had complained of her age or tiredness, but in Bao's eyes, those moments had been carefully crafted to achieve some aim; whether garnering Emrethe's attention or wiggling out of a straight answer. Bao had never met anyone with as few straight answers and as many crooked means as Emrethe's strange mentor. He was wary of the old woman, but he could see she truly cherished the exiled Jedi she sought to teach.  
"That's it!" Emrethe gasped, stopping suddenly. Visas halted beside her as smoothly as if she had known all along Emrethe would stop exactly there, but Bao took a couple steps before he realized what had happened. He turned around to see what the problem was. "I am soaked and overheated, and to hell with this!" Emrethe continued. She shrugged her shoulders and dropped her pack, then wrestled her outer robes off. That wet mess was discarded onto the ground and she went to work on the fastenings of her inner robes.  
"Do you intend to gallivant around this moon as naked as you did Peragus?" Kreia asked sharply. Bao's eyebrows shot up but he made no comment.  
Emrethe gave her a dark look, then wriggled out of her inner robes. She stood, arms akimbo, feeling the rain, clad yet in her sleeveless tunic, her leggings, and her tall boots. "No, dear teacher, this will do. Unless you think my jumpsuit is a better option?"  
"The Force preserve us from such lunacy," Kreia muttered acerbically. "If you must strip in the middle of this jungle, that is quite enough."  
Emrethe stood her pack up and reached for the wet clothes she'd removed.  
"You don't want to put those in your pack, they'll make all your supplies just as wet," Bao observed aloud before he thought better of the warning.  
"Thank you," she said sardonically, giving him a half-glare. She bit her lip to keep from letting loose with a real tirade, but he could see the annoyance flashing in her eyes – not just at him, but at Kreia, at the weather, at the situation, and not least of all at the place. It was all he could do to keep the amusement off his face. She looked like nothing so much as a soaked and furious cat. He must not have done a perfect job, because an answering amusement glinted in her eyes.  
"I can carry those," Visas offered in her rich, melodic voice, and the amusement faded from Emrethe's eyes.  
"I've got it," Emrethe said, arranging the clothes over the outside of the pack and pulling the pack back into place on her back.  
"It would be no burden," Visas said.  
"Exactly," Emrethe said.  
Kreia gave an impatient exhalation. "Perhaps we could move along before some pack of hungry creatures decides we would make a suitable meal?"  
Bao-Dur saw Emrethe stiffen with irritation, but she only shrugged, and they continued along the path they'd found.

If Bao-Dur found anything more disturbing than the weather, the terrain, or the memories of Dxun, it was the Mandalorians, and worse, their leader.  
The group had done a few errands for the new Mandalore, and Emrethe was talking with him now. Kreia had been shown to a private area where she could rest, though Bao felt she was more tired of dealing with the blunt and at times rude Mandalorians than she was physically tired. It was true the fight with the zakkeg had tired them all, but they'd taken the time to rest and repair before Emrethe had come to speak with Mandalore.  
Visas stood behind Bao-Dur, silent and radiating awareness. Bao wondered what she was aware of in him, but did not ask. He didn't want to know, and he didn't want her searching. Self-awareness was something he sought, something he gave his time and his intelligence to, but there were few people he'd ever shared any of that awareness with. Replace 'few' with 'one', he thought with a certain wry humor, and he turned his attention imperceptibly back to that one.  
Emrethe was chatting with the new Mandalore in a deceptively breezy way, making perceptive and persistent efforts to learn more about who the Mandalore was, what his business on Onderon was, why he'd chosen Dxun as the birthplace of his new Mandalorians – in essence, any useful droplet of information she could glean from him.  
The Mandalore was stonewalling her her in a half-indulgent way. It was clear that he appreciated the steel edge to her spine beneath the lighthearted feminine wiles, and that thought set Bao's teeth on edge. It was obvious Emrethe was an attractive woman, and equally obvious that, though the Mandalore was unbeguiled by it, he was quite cognizant and appreciative of that fact.  
That cognizance irritated Bao-Dur. He made a mental attempt to shrug that irritation off, it was not his business. At least Mandalore was anything but disrespectful, though he made no bones about being the one in charge.  
Maybe that's what bothered Bao-Dur. The in charge part. The General was sure to respect that, perhaps even be drawn to it, though she was far too good for a war-mongering Mandalorian. Yet here was a leader like she was, though she had thrown aside that role even as Mandalore had purposefully gathered it up.  
Bao had analyzed and inspected his own feelings for the General at great length and with great privacy, both now and in the past. He'd dissected and rationalized those feelings endlessly as part of his never-ending struggle to find some measure of peace with who he was and what he had done, what his hands had, in wrath, wrought. Part of his feelings, he'd decided, had come from who she was: that way she had of drawing people out and near without conscious effort. Even he was not immune to that, though he kept a vigilant awareness of it so he could maintain his strict distance. Certainly another part of it came from the fact she'd been there when he'd become vengeance and no longer a sentient person, separate from his rage at the suffering caused by the Mandalorians. She'd been there, and she'd been a part of it, she knew in a way an outsider never could.  
If there were any parts of his feelings for her that could not be defined as loyalty or comradeship, he kept them tightly suppressed. She was far beyond him.  
It had nothing do to with the difference in their races. She had been there, and she had acted out of a desperate need to protect, while he had acted out of hatred. He could never forget that. Even in this new incarnation, this tougher and more self-reliant, more closed-off way of being she had acquired since they'd parted in the smoke and chaos of that last battle, she still sought to protect. It was an intrinsic part of who she was. Despite an impressive temper, she held no hatred in her heart, it had never ruled her as it had him.  
She was the General, and he was just a Tech. A Jedi now, by her doing, by her perception and her urging, but still the gap remained. The role of a Tech was to work in the background, it was never to stand beside a General.  
Unconsciously his hand touched the hilt of his lightsaber, hanging from his belt. By this means he could fulfill his role more efficiently, protecting the General and aiding her in her goals. When all this was over, and these new Sith Lords were defeated and the Jedi Council reunited, then perhaps by this means he could begin to make a full penance for what he'd done.

Mandalore was impressed with the tasks they'd completed so far, but remained reluctant to allow them use of his shuttle for the trip to Onderon. Emrethe had managed to convince him to give them another task. She did not seem irritated to be given tasks to complete to prove her worthiness as a travel companion; if anything, she seemed relieved more was needed. Bao suspected, despite her determination to find and reunite the remaining Jedi, she was for some reason reluctant to see Master Kavar, rumored to be on Onderon.  
Their task was to detonate some permacrete deep in the jungle, to uncover an equipment cache buried by the Mandalorians during the war. Bao-Dur was of two minds about helping the Mandalorians equip themselves, but the General seemed to have no such doubts.  
"They'll open the cache anyway, whether we help or not," she said to Bao. "And this way, we'll have some idea of what they're getting. It's not like we have much choice; if we want to get to Onderon, then we'll have to dance to Mandalore's tune for the time being."  
"We don't have the time to wait for the Ebon Hawk to be repaired," Visas agreed. "I can feel the turmoil on the planet below. If we do not find this Jedi Master soon, events may place him out of our reach."  
Bao saw the flicker of pain on Emrethe's face, though she hid it well. "We'd better get to work, then," he said, as if he hadn't noticed.  
"All business," Emrethe said with a grin. "I like that in a male."  
Bao only raised a brow in response, though his stomach twisted in a pleasant way as he fought to ignore at her smile and her mild flirting.  
"Master," Visas said quickly. The grin left Emrethe's face, her discomfort at that title clear. "If you have no need of me for this task, I'd like to stay here, in the camp, and test myself against the Mandalorians in their battle circle."  
Emrethe's brow wrinkled, then she smiled at Visas, a teasing light in her eyes. "You want to hone your skills, eh? Embarrassed to have been beaten by someone as out of practice as me?"  
Bao was surprised to see the ghost of a smile touch Visas' full mouth. "Perhaps it would not be inaccurate to suggest that you were... allowed to win."  
Emrethe laughed out loud, her delight at Visas' response plain. "Hah. Funny. Get your sparring in, then, and maybe we'll have a rematch later on." She looked up at Bao. "She's almost as funny as Atton, you think?"  
"Nearly as funny as Atton imagines he is," Bao replied wryly. He watched a faint blush touch Visas' cheeks, and wondered what it signified. Whatever it meant remained Visas' secret. With a deferential bow that caused Emrethe's entire body to stiffen, she took her leave of them.

The so-called trail leading to the cache in question was even worse than the trails which had led them to the Mandalorians. Bao and Emrethe walked for nearly and hour before taking refuge from the rain beneath a deep overhang. The Remote floated a bit ahead of them, vigilant, watching for cannocks or worse.  
Emrethe took her braid down and wrung it out. "In this environment, I almost envy your lack of hair," she said as she combed her long, straight locks with her fingers, unraveling her braid.  
"I could assist you with that, if you like," Bao offered, his mouth twitching as he struggled to keep a straight face. "In fact, I have just the thing to clear that all off-"  
"No," she said, giving him a mock-glare. "I said almost. It took me a long time to grow this, you know."  
"I remember you wore your hair quite short at one time," he said quietly, picturing her then. When she'd taken the mantle of General and led Jedi and soldiers into battle against the Mandalorians, her bright hair had been only inches long and frequently spiked from her impatient habit of thrusting her hand though it. It had affected him strangely, almost painfully, the first time he'd seen her again, unconscious from that shuttle crash on Telos; that her short, constantly ruffled hair was now long enough to reach the middle of her back and carefully braided, something she'd once been willing to spare no time or attention for. A physical manifestation of how much had changed, perhaps.  
She stared at him, looking through him and back through the years. Though her face was tight with pain, she nearly managed a smile. "I was not much more than a child then. So... terribly young. And maybe that's one of the reasons I grew my hair out, to be as different from that young woman physically as I had become inside."  
"You have changed, General," Bao said gravely. "But there is much in you that remains the way it was even then." Her gaze softened, and he almost took back his words at the wound he could see bleeding inside of her. His jaw tensed, and he felt his own pain rise, those old bad memories, that inner war-wound ache that could easily drown out even the pain of his lost arm.  
At last her hand fluttered in a forced, dismissive way, and she made another arduous attempt at a smile. "It's not like I had anything better to do with my time, in exile," she said.  
"Ah, hair-growing as a hobby. Interesting. Perhaps I'll try that sometime."  
She rolled her eyes at him, her smile becoming more genuine. A whistle escaped her lips as her eyes wandered over their surroundings and he turned his gaze to follow her line of sight. Moving away from him, she crouched near a dip in the undergrowth. "Will you look at this," she muttered, half under her breath.  
He saw what looked like a fragment of a sleeve, a Republic uniform, peeking out from the undergrowth. Without a word he crouched beside her, dragging it out into the light. It was attached to more ragged pieces by mere threads. Some of the damage looked like blaster wreckage, most was decay or the work of hungry animals. Part of the chest was left, with half a name on it. "Shil..." he murmured.  
"Did you ever think we'd be back here, Bao-Dur?" she whispered. She shook her head. "Much less together."  
"I... had not considered the possibility," he said, folding the remnants of the sleeve back over the half a name as if covering the face of the dead. "There are many things about this journey I had not considered."  
She smiled, a sad, old smile without looking at him, nodding her head wordlessly, settling down onto the ground, her ankles crossing close in front of her. He followed her example without thinking, and found he sat too close to her, their knees touching. Once again he was too aware of her closeness, her warmth, even the clean, sweet way she smelled. He swallowed and forced his attention to the slight debris before them. They stayed that way, sitting close, mulling over nothing more than rags, unspeaking, for long moments. When she finally spoke, her words were nearly inaudible. "I was so sure, then. Revan was so right. The worlds moved according to his will, and he was purity itself in his desire to protect. I wanted to protect. I wanted to have some of what Revan had... that absolute assurance, the certainty that there was no other way. I wanted to touch the Force the way he did. Even the Force itself seemed to bend to his will, giving us victories no one else could possibly have achieved." She shook her head again, her head bowed, her face averted.  
Bao-Dur could not speak, afraid if he made the smallest noise, this confession would stop, and it was welling out of her as if it would bleed the old wounds clean. He could see her suffering and he wished he could bear some of it for her; he'd always felt her suffering. There was a more selfish desire there too; the hope that if he could help her heal even this small bit, it would alleviate some of this terrible debt, this consuming guilt he carried.  
After a brief, haunted silence, she spoke again. "When I look back now, and I know how it ends... all the death... all the pain... not just Jedi, not just the Republic, but the Mandalorians as well... There's just so much of it. An ocean of blood and loss, unending, enough to swallow a sun. I look back, and I just don't feel that... certainty anymore. Into that ocean of savagery, even Revan was lost. In the end, the Force itself had not bent before Revan, or anyone. Maybe I was a fool... maybe I was worse than a fool. This soldier, this death, this is another loss I helped to create. So many lost so much. Lost too much to bear, even." She swallowed, her throat moving, and he saw that her hands were shaking. At last she looked at him, her expression a terrible wasteland, an emptiness into which anything could be lost. "Even you lost... Bao-Dur," she whispered. She lifted her hand, tentatively, and touched his leg, her hand falling away as his muscles bunched.  
He felt the absence of his arm, the artificial arm he'd created feeling again as strange and wrong as it had the first time he'd used it. He shrugged, not to negate her words, but to end that feeling; as if he'd stepped through a hole into the past. "I lost nothing I did not willingly give," he said softly, looking away. "Everything I lost was lost by my own choices. You cannot shoulder the blame for every suffering that came about under your command simply because you were there."  
"It was more than that," she began, her fingers clenching together.  
"This soldier," Bao said as if she had not spoken. "This person who died here on this path in that war... chose to be here. We all chose to fight, and we all chose to follow you and follow Revan. We all had our own reasons to do what we did, and our sacrifices were our own."  
She tried to speak again, but could not seem to make her voice work. He returned his gaze to hers, offering her this silent remembrance, this unspeaking kinship wrought of shared grief. She broke their gaze this time. "Ah," she sighed, swallowing back her sorrow. "This is a maudlin display, and I am sorry I subjected you to it, old friend. We'd better get back to work before I really get sickening." Her smile was tight and forced.  
He nodded tersely, carefully restraining his urge to gather her in close and hold her as she hurt, and they stood. The Remote floated back toward them, curious, beeping importantly at them to hurry up and get to the permacrete already.

The demolitions set-up was crude by Bao's standards, but it would get the job done. He inspected to make sure its low level of sophistication would not put the two of them and the Remote at risk, then got clear and nodded to the General to go ahead and press the trigger button.  
She gave him a look of barely subdued glee. For a woman who sought peace as she did, she definitely enjoyed watching explosions. He smiled back and she pressed the button.  
The blast of heat and the noise of the explosion whirled around them, her loose hair whipping in the new wind. Debris scattered around the area, though they were beyond the area of damage and rubble.  
"That was more enjoyable than I'd hoped," she said, and the Remote made its beeping laugh. She laughed with it, and even Bao smirked, until rumbling and roaring from the jungle behind them reached their ears.  
"I think we've attracted some attention," Bao said grimly, pulling his lightsaber from his belt and igniting it.  
"So what's new?" she muttered, following his lead, her silver blade casting a pale light across her face.


	3. Approval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bao and Emrethe complete a task to finally earn the Mandalore's help for a trip to Iziz to find Master Kavar

Bao-Dur Force Jumped at the massive adult Boma as it hurtled toward them out of the underbrush. He was aware of Emrethe behind him, but everything else he focused on the danger before them. Emrethe, he knew, could hold her own, but he would do his part to keep her from harm.  
These beasts were simple creatures, and he wished them no harm, but there was no way to divert them. His purple lightsaber made short work of the Boma, and the juvenile Boma and several other angry creatures that followed, attracted by the noise and the vibration of the explosion. He saw the flash of Emrethe's saber as he fought, and knew she was beside him. On his other side the Remote fired its small laser on the animals.  
The small battle ended quickly, with no one injured. Emrethe caught her breath, shaking her head. "I don't know why I wasn't expecting that. I knew this task was too easy in itself."  
Bao agreed without a word, nodding. The Remote buzzed around as if looking for another target, as always eager to help.  
Emrethe pulled an elastic band out of a belt pouch and tightly rebraided her hair. He watched her, meaning to look away but unable to, such a small intimacy, watching a woman groom herself. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw him watching her.   
"Jealous?" she asked, and he felt jolted, wondering how much she saw.  
"General?" he managed, doing his best to keep his voice calm.  
"That you have nothing to braid," she clarified with that teasing grin. "You seem nearly entranced by hair."  
He shrugged, a mild smile hiding his relief. Not just any hair could entrance him, but why damn himself with details? "It's strange stuff, and you have a lot of it."  
She finished braiding her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. "I should have done that before battle," she muttered, then gave him a saucy grin. "You know, if you're a good boy, I might let you do what you want with my hair some time, just to get it out of your system."  
His eyebrows shot up. "I don't think that will be necessary, General," he said quickly, blocking out images, pushing away the desire to know if her hair was as silky as it looked, if it smelled as sweet as she did.  
She shook her head. "Don't run away, Bao," she said lightly. "I wasn't serious. I figured it was no different then letting you fiddle with my lightsaber. A scientific interest."  
He looked away, trying for casual, turning to the blown open entrance to the Mandalorian cache. "Hair falls under a biological science," he said, his quiet voice unruffled. "My expertise is with technology, General."  
"And I am thankful to have you along, Bao," she said, sincerely. "For that, but not only for that. You are indispensable to me."  
He gave her a half smile. "I had nothing else to do. Annoying Czerka was beginning to bore me and accomplished little."  
She laughed. "Glad you could fit us in. Shall we go in and inspect the supplies?"  
The interior of the cache was heavy with dust and crowded with cargo cylinders and construction droids that appeared to be nonfunctional. Emrethe and Bao opened the cylinders to check the contents, with Bao opening the few locks that were beyond Emrethe's skill. There was nothing contained within that posed any real danger to the people of Iziz or Onderon.   
The droids interested Bao, and he tinkered with a few of them to see if he could power them up and investigate their programming. They seemed to be mere construction droids, but if they were programmed to attack, they could be used to cause quite a bit of trouble.  
"Anything?" Emrethe asked after the third droid refused to power up.   
"Nothing, General, but I feel uncomfortable leaving them here, not knowing for certain what they are capable of if they were repaired."  
Emrethe looked thoughtful. "I trust your judgment, Bao. Perhaps it would be best if we simply destroyed them. Just to be sure."  
"We may be doing the Mandalorians a favor, cleaning out this junk," Bao said. "But even if they are only construction droids, destroying them means the Mandalorians must handle their own heavy work and construction."  
"Ah, keeping them busy and out of the Republic's hair," she said, grinning, leaving a smudge of dust on her forehead as she wiped trickling sweat away. The heat of the jungle was condensed in the small, closed cache. "Good plan. Let us implement it."  
Bao punched through the nearest droid with his artificial arm, reducing its thorax to splintered metal. It wobbled and crashed to the ground. Before it even hit the ground, the other droids hummed to life, and Bao and Emrethe found themselves surrounded by activated and clearly aggressive droids. The Remote squealed in excited worry, bobbing above them and firing at the construction droids. Emrethe avoided a punch and sliced that droid in half, having pulled her saber out and ignited it so swiftly even Bao had not caught the motion. The silver saber lit the interior of the cache with an eerie glow, the shadows of the droids shifting even that meager light. He lay about him with his mechanical fist, more effective for him in these close quarters than his lightsaber would be. Droids shattered and fell.   
As the last droid fell to Bao's attack, the glow of the saber faded. He turned and saw her surveying the wreckage with a satisfied look, a small cut bleeding on her cheek and a long tear across the stomach of her vest. She caught his glance and grinned, catching her breath.  
"How right can you be, Bao?" she said. She shook her head. "Only a Mandalorian would consider using a construction droid as a battle droid."  
"Your face is injured," he said, concerned. "Do you have an injury on your stomach as well?"  
She touched her cheek with her fingertips, pulling them away to check for blood. "It's just a scratch." She lifted up her vest, baring her midriff and a shallow abrasion that stretched from her ribs on one side to her hip on the other. "And that's not serious either. You?"  
"Just scratches," he said, with a brief shake of his head. "But we'd better get a look at your wounds in the light. It's filthy in here, they'll need to be cleaned."  
Back out in the green-filtered sunlight of the Dxun jungle, her injuries were clearly not serious. She cleaned the stomach scrape quickly, wincing in soundless discomfort as the sting of the antiseptic seeped into the raw sore. She used another cloth to wipe her face off.  
"It's still bleeding, General," Bao said. "Better let me have a look at it."  
"I'm nothing if not accommodating," she said with a half grin. She handed him a clean cloth. "Do you think it will need bandaging?"  
"Let me look at it first," he said wryly. She stepped close to him, her face tilting up to his. He took her chin in his hand gently, tilting her face so he could see the cut better. It wasn't long, but it was deep, and gapped a bit. "It calls for kolto, if you don't want a scar," he murmured, all business, pulling out a medpack and applying the liquid to the cut, watching closely to be sure it healed properly. She reached up and placed her hand on his forearm for balance, but he was able to push aside any reaction to her nearness and her touch by focusing on what needed to be done. He nodded in satisfaction as the cut closed cleanly, leaving no scar.  
"Do I pass, Bao-Dur?" she said softly, her voice strangely throaty; startled, his gaze was caught and held by hers.  
"General," he whispered, but could not think of anything to say, could not make his voice work anyway. His hand dropped quickly away from her face.  
She lifted a hand to his face, her fingertips stroking his cheekbone so softly it could almost be that it never happened at all. "Do you feel it too?" she murmured, as if she did not realize she spoke aloud.  
He grasped her hand and pulled it away from his face, his heart thudding painfully and frantically. No matter what he was wishing for, he could not allow this to happen. He backed away, releasing her hand as if it hurt him, his eyes wide.  
"No," he said, his voice sharper than he intended. "I... I am sorry, General."  
She flinched, her mouth pulling back, but her stare continued to devour him. "You cannot lie to me, Bao-Dur," she said, and he shook his head. "I saw your eyes. I saw you."  
"It will never be," he said flatly, his voice unwavering through sheer force of will. "It could never be."  
"I'm not asking you for anything, Bao," she said. "I... I see you are attracted to me, but if it is not something you are interested in pursuing, of course I will respect that."  
He almost laughed out loud, a bitter, aching laugh, that she could condense his feelings into something so small and trivial as attraction, but he kept his face carefully blank. "We should report back to Mandalore," he said at last. "Perhaps now that we have completed his task, he will see fit to allow us transport on his shuttle to Onderon."  
She broke their gaze, turning sharply away, and he knew she did it to hide her turbulent feelings. "My thoughts exactly," she agreed, beginning back down the path to the Mandalorian camp without looking back at him.

Mandalore was indeed pleased with Emrethe, and amused by her disgruntled comment about the beasts that attacked them. "It wouldn't have been a test if it were easy," he said, his voice tinged with the mechanical sound of the helmet he had never removed in their presence. "I'll have Zuka start the shuttle's preparations. If there's anything you need from your ship I'd get it now, because I'm not waiting around for you." He tilted his face to give her torn vest a look.  
"I'll be ready," she said, ignoring his look. "Anything I need will be in our packs. We'll be waiting for your word that it is time to leave."  
Mandalore gave Emrethe a curt nod and stalked around them and out of the small building that served as a com center for the Mandalorian camp.  
She turned to Bao. "Luckily I think I can use the refresher with plenty of haste to be finished before he is ready to leave. And I believe I have a spare vest packed." She gave the torn vest a rueful look. "I can't meet with ... anyone looking like this, can I?"  
"I doubt Master Kavar will care what you wear," he said mildly, watching her reaction to that name.  
Her eyes shot up to meet his and flashed, but she quickly masked her feelings, her normally expressive face closed. "Either way," she muttered. "I am washing some of this jungle off of me." She gave him a sly look. "You may wish to do so as well, if we're going to be sharing a small shuttle, old friend."  
"Whoa," he said, chuckling. "Don't hold back now."  
"You smell," she said bluntly, with a sniff, fighting not to grin at him and ruin her teasing. "A refresher could be a good thing."  
"You command and I obey, General," he said, bowing his head slightly.   
She laughed. "I'll call the refresher first, so you don't clog it up with all your hair," she said, breezily.  
He shook his head, following her back to the spartan quarters Mandalore had offered them.


	4. Iziz And Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrethe momentarily manages to reach her old Master, Kavar.

Onderon was nearly as hot as Dxun, but blessedly less humid. The weather was not half so disturbing as the desperate and barely hidden tension washing off the inhabitants of Iziz; they eyed the strangers with mixed expressions, some with hope – at least for their credits – some with mistrust, even outright hatred. Even the inhabitants' children were sensitive to the undercurrents; no children played or laughed in the streets, instead the children watched the strangers with expressions mimicking that of their parents. The very air was so oppressive that even the Remote seemed subdued, and stayed close to Bao.   
Emrethe rushed around, her face grim as she did what she had to do in order to obtain the freedom of Mandalore's contact, the man who had connections inside the Palace, where rumor said Master Kavar was. Her inner tension bled through the air and Bao could feel it. There were things moving in her heart, a darkness he could not fully see – the darkness of an old, unhealed pain.  
She didn't like Dagon Ghent, but she maintained a sort of acidic politeness for Mandalore's contact. They stayed in Dagon's filthy medical office while they waited for word from the person the bald-headed doctor knew in the palace. Emrethe dozed on one of the beds while Mandalore and Dagon played pazaak; Bao watched over Emrethe covertly while pretending to check the Remote over for maintenance needs. He trusted neither man.  
A sly-looking Twi'lek came into Ghent's office and handed him a datapad, slinking off without a word. The doctor read it and stood up, turning toward Emrethe. Bao gave him a sharp look and woke Emrethe himself, laying a hand on her shoulder.  
"It is time, General," he said as she sat up. Her whole body froze, then she nodded curtly.

The meeting was set up for the cantina near Ghent's office. Though the place was dark, loud, and busy, Emrethe found her way straight to the Jedi Master who waited in an alcove toward the back of the cantina.  
Bao watched this Master carefully. For whatever reason, this meeting was affecting Emrethe far more deeply than the meeting on Nar Shadaa with Master Zez-Kai Ell, and Bao intended to be ready to help her no matter what transpired. This Master was not all that much older than Emrethe or Bao himself – no more than a decade - and he would surely fit Emrethe's idea of handsome. Blond, square-jawed, blue-eyed; he gave an impression of strength, purpose, and intelligence.  
"Master Kavar," Emrethe said, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.  
"Emrethe," he said, and Bao heard affection and sorrow hidden in his voice. The two stood staring at each other for long moments, oblivious even to Mandalore's impatience.  
"I didn't expect you to turn against me, too," she said at last. "I had hoped that you, of all of them, had understood why I did what I did. That you would advocate for me in some small way."  
"We had no choice," Kavar said, his eyes darkening, but he shook his head. "No, that is not quite true. We believed we had no choice."  
"I... I trust in the decision," Emrethe said. "But I had hoped that you would have understood... me."  
Kavar seemed to flinch, so finely that it might have been imagined. "I think you give us too much credit," he said heavily. "Our decision, and the haste with which we made it... has left me with lingering doubts. And knowing what we know now-" Bao watched Emrethe perk up a little, leaning forward just slightly.  
"Master Kavar," a superior, snide voice interrupted. "Away from the palace?" They whirled around to see a sour-faced man walking toward them, his blaster rifle ready, backed up by a squad of soldiers.  
"Tobin," Kavar hissed. He glanced at Emrethe, his body already tensing to flee. "You must get away from here. I'll send word when I can. Run, now!" The Master lifted his hand and most of the soldiers with Tobin began to wobble as if stunned and dizzy.  
"What... what have you done with my men?" Tobin shouted, but Kavar was already running past him and out of the cantina. "Blast! I can't let him escape! Deal with this Jedi!" he ordered his men, and took to his heels after Kavar.  
Mandalore already had his dual vibroblades out and was charging into the Onderon soldiers. Bao ignited his saber, glancing around to see the other occupants of the cantina huddling away from them in fear.  
"We must be careful," he said quickly to Emrethe.  
"Yes," she said, her own lightsaber ready. "Be mindful of the bystanders."  
"This is what I live for!" Mandalore shouted. The Remote beeped in response and began firing at the soldiers.

They fought their way out of the Cantina, tangling with a couple more groups of Vaklu's soldiers in the Western Square before escaping into the market area.  
"We'd better get out of here in a hurry," Emrethe said to her companions, and they raced for the spaceport and the shuttle. As they rounded the last corner, the turrets surrounding the spaceport walls began firing upon them. Mandalore sheathed his vibroblades in an easy movement and tore his blaster rifle from its holster, returning the fire as citizens screamed and dove for cover. Emrethe and Bao deflected bolts from the turrets back on them, and the three of them managed to shut down the turrets before anyone was hurt.  
Flushed and hurried, Emrethe flashed their visa at the officer guarding the entrance to the spaceport.   
"You better get going," he said. "All hell's breaking loose here – I don't know what happened with the turrets."  
They quickly boarded their shuttle. Manning the controls, Mandalore turned back to the two of them. "No more trips to Iziz until the situation changes. A lot!"

"We're heading back to the Ebon Hawk," Emrethe announced to her gathered companions. "Atton says it's ready to go, and so are we."  
"Aren't you waiting for some message from that Master down on the planet?" Mira asked.  
"We'll get the message whether we're here on Dxun or already looking for the next Master," Emrethe said shortly.  
"The Exile is right," Visas said. "We'll gain nothing waiting around. We have a better chance of success in finding the remaining Masters if we make haste. If Darth Sion finds them first, our search will be in vain."  
Kreia stiffened at Visas' words, though she offered no argument. Bao could see it rankled her that Visas had given the advice she herself had planned to give, and he held back a smile. "As the Sith says, we'd best be on the move," the elder said acerbically.  
"I'm coming with you," Mandalore said, interrupting without apology. Bao's eyes narrowed.  
"Why?" Emrethe asked bluntly. "Leading the clans not enough for you?"  
Mandalore looked at her in silence for a moment, finally speaking when she remained unimpressed with the expressionless glare of his helmet. "I intend to gather the clans. You cause trouble. Mandalorians are drawn to trouble. I have a feeling I'll run into more than a few of my people traveling with you."  
Emrethe gave him a sardonic look. "Some people ask for permission when they want to travel with another," she said.  
"Yes, some people do," Mandalore agreed affably but immovably.  
Emrethe sighed. "Fine. We'll make yet more space. But we're leaving now."  
"Then let's go and stop standing around chatting about it," Kreia said irritably.

Bao-Dur was glad to return to the Ebon Hawk so he could properly inspect Atton's repairs. Emrethe came into the engine room directly from the refresher, her braided hair still damp.  
"How'd he do?" she asked Bao, her mouth quirked up.  
"He did well," Bao admitted. "But I had to check."  
"You're wondering why I didn't leave you behind to do the repairs?" she asked, leaning against a metal column, tipping her head to meet his eyes, though he'd been trying to avoid that without seeming like he was.  
"The thought did occur, General," he said mildly. "I know Atton would have preferred being at your side."  
The side of her mouth pulled back, in self-mockery or derision. "I know. And that's part of the reason that I asked him to see to the repairs – that and Kreia felt strongly it would be good for him, especially if he intends to be a Jedi. To stay behind and clear his mind with the work of his hands."  
"I don't trust Kreia, not really," Bao said, softly. "She's not as harmless as she would like to appear."  
Emrethe looked away. "I don't trust her either, not fully, but she needs me, I feel it in her. That makes it impossible to turn away from her."  
"We all need you, in our own ways, General," Bao said, turning his attention back to the engine.  
"Oh," Emrethe said, clearly looking for something denying to say but unable to find any. "Well, I need you all too. Maybe we all need each other."  
Bao said nothing, though he disagreed. He made a small adjustment to a valve. "You seem calmer now, after meeting Kavar," he said with studied disinterest.  
She gave a snort of laughter, the self-derision back. "I was pretty tense about it – I guess I just needed to see something."  
"What did you see?"  
"Once, I'd had such a crush on him; I thought we'd had a special connection, if nothing else. When he turned against me during my trial, I was devastated – it felt like a betrayal. Because, of all of them, he should have understood what drove me to make the decisions I did. But he had no time for me – he never even came to speak with me while I awaited trial."  
"So did you see what you needed to see?" Bao asked, his eyes drawn back to her face, to the expressiveness of her dark eyes. She held his gaze with no attempt to hide her emotions from him, that direct, intense gaze she leveled at anyone she was speaking to. He wondered if she realized that everything she felt was reflected there as she felt it.  
"Yes. Whatever youthful feelings I had for Kavar, they ended long ago. Maybe even before I left for the Mandalorian Wars. What I felt had only been looking at someone I admired with eyes obscured by stars and would-be romance, and it's gone now."  
Bao shook his head, but bit his lip. Whatever Kavar felt for Emrethe was far from over, in Bao's eyes.  
"You don't believe I've left a childish crush behind so easily?" she asked, smiling, her brow crooked up.  
"I don't believe it was easy," Bao replied. "But I believe you feel what you say you do."  
"It wasn't easy," she admitted. "Facing Kavar. But putting it off for so long had allowed the pain of him turning against me to grow far larger than it should have. I should have sought him out directly after the trial, instead of allowing those feelings to fester for so long."  
She was so close, and he could feel the relief flowing from her, the easing of a long held pain; he wanted to gather her up into his arms and hold her. Watching him, her eyes widened, and he turned away before she could read too much of him in his face.  
"I'll go let Atton know we're ready to disembark," he said quickly, and brushed by her as he headed towards the door of the engine room.  
"Are you running from me?" she asked, barely a whisper, but he heard her and stopped, his hand on the circular doorjamb.  
"I would never run from you, General," he said at last, honestly, then left her there, alone in the semi-lit engine room.


	5. Korriban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bao fears for the Exile.

Lonna Vash was somewhere in the abandoned Sith Academy on Korriban. Emrethe suspected she was investigating why the place had been abandoned and trying to find some information about where Revan could have gone. Kreia refused to walk the surface of Korriban with her, so she'd taken Atton and the assassin droid HK-47 with her, as HK mentioned blandly it had been here before at some point.  
Once she found Master Vash and gave her the message about the Jedi Council meeting on Dantooine, they'd probably return to Dxun and wait for some word from Master Kavar, since she hadn't gotten a chance to tell him about the meeting when they spoke last.  
As much as Bao hated Dxun and the Mandalorian camp, it seemed much more inviting to him in this moment than dead, windy Korriban did.  
Bao concentrated fiercely on the Remote's bare innards as the tiny machine rested on the workbench, its hemispheres separated for access. There wasn't much room for maneuvering in that small space and he didn't want to weigh the Remote down, but he believed he could – very carefully – upgrade the Remote's low impact firepower and lightweight shields. Because the room to work inside the Remote was so limited, it took skill and creativity to make adjustments, and no little amount of concentration.  
Which was exactly what Bao-Dur wanted. Something delicate and needful to concentrate on while Emrethe wandered around on the surface of Korriban, without him.  
Something to concentrate on while Emrethe was off facing something that was causing his gut to grind inside him in apprehension.  
She was capable. Experienced in battle. She didn't really need him, he acknowledged, though that was a punch in his gut too.  
He focused minutely on his work to shut off the feeling tingling along the base of his spine to the nape of his neck that she needed him, that she needed his help, and he wasn't there.  
T3 stood at his elbow, watching silently, for once not offering suggestions and exclamations in its whistles and beeps. He wondered if the little astromech felt it too, felt something. It wouldn't surprise him if it knew something about Korriban that the rest of them didn't. Bao noticed Kreia slipping along in the hallways, following Mical at a distance for whatever secretive reason she might have had. The old woman stopped to glance at him, he felt her touch his mind with her own and knew she couldn't read him at all.  
What little of her he could read was twisted and broken. Not evil, not really, but there was something poisoned wrapped up inside it. He couldn't feel any wish to harm them in her, and knew she cared very deeply for Emrethe, that in her own way she craved the sheltered light inside the Exile the way they all did, for their own purposes.  
His gut twisted again.  
He reassembled the Remote carefully, making sure T3 hadn't seen everything he'd done. A man needs some secrets, he thought to himself. Maybe not quite this many, but it was far too late to worry about that.

They were still not back. Hours and hours had passed. Bao didn't want to pace, so he went out to the surface of the planet and inspected the Ebon Hawk from the outside, finding small problems here and there he could meticulously repair.  
He couldn't put into words how the feeling in his gut changed, but he knew something bad was happening at about the same time he saw Kreia walk half way down the entry ramp. She still hid in the shadows as best she could, but he could see her mouth moving without a sound, her aged hand gripping the strut she leaned against so tightly Bao thought she might leave a mark in it.  
She's talking to Emrethe, he realized. Whatever she had caused to happen seemed to suddenly tire her out, and she sagged against the strut. Tentatively, he approached her and offered his good arm.  
The old woman glared at him haughtily for a moment, then gave the tiniest sigh, and released the strut to take his arm. Without a word between them, he helped her back to her bunk, then returned to the ramp to wait.

It was some time before he saw Atton and HK approaching in the distance, no sign of Emrethe with them. Bao found himself walking toward them, unable to wait where he stood, taking in the exhausted lines of Atton's shoulders.  
He didn't have to ask the questions bubbling over in his mind.  
“She told us to come back to the ship. There was a tomb. She said she had to face it alone,” Atton said, and Bao could see the shorter man questioning himself, wondering why he'd listened to her.  
“Where?” Bao asked curtly.  
“Cave up near the academy. Can't miss it. The tomb is at the back.”  
“Statement: my master told us to return,” HK said firmly. “I am capable of using force to see her orders followed.” There was some gleeful relish in the assassin droid's voice.  
“She told you to return, return,” Bao said mildly. “Take Atton with you.”  
“Maybe Atton wants to come with you and help,” Atton said, and fell silent at Bao's grim look.  
You left her there, alone, Bao's face said. His voice contained no malice, no anger at all when he spoke,though; he knew the force of Emrethe's will. “Atton, you're exhausted, and possibly injured. Go rest. We'll be back in no time.”

 

He found the tomb just as Atton said, an ominous looking place roiling with Dark Side energy. It was closed tightly and would not open for him no matter what he tried, so eventually he simply stood, waiting in the oppressive darkness, knowing she was near, knowing she would come out close enough to this spot that she would see him, that he would see her, and if she needed him he'd be at hand.  
And there she was, a hidden door closing behind her, her face bruised and clothes torn and dirty, her hairline damp with sweat. He saw the moment she realized he was there, the way she stilled and turned to see him, and he was closing the ground between them, so quickly he knew he was in trouble.  
Knew some part of him was reaching out to sweep her into his arms in relief, knew he had to stop himself. He halted in front of her with effort, keeping his hands to himself with heroic will.  
She stared up into his face without speaking, drinking him in. Her hand lifted and she placed it on his chest, against the beat of his heart. A fierce tremor ran through him. He knew she could feel the wildness of his heartbeat beneath her hand. Laid bare at her gaze and her touch, he reached up to pull her hand away.  
Instead he found himself bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a trembling kiss against her palm, then pressing her hand against his chest again. She gave the smallest gasp of surprise, swaying toward him, and he shuddered with the effort it took to wrench himself towards reality.  
Carefully, firmly, he gripped her arms to keep her from falling towards him, to keep himself from sweeping her closer, knowing he was holding tighter than he should, knowing his struggle was telegraphed to her through his hold. “General,” he said, his voice on the verge of breaking, unsure what he was pleading for but know it was a plea.  
She stopped leaning toward him, simply standing with her hand reading his crazed heart, his harsh breaths, watching his face. He sensed her sudden caution, knew she was being delicate with him, felt her waiting.  
Waiting for him to allow himself closer to her.  
He leaned down, let his forehead rest against hers, his eyes closing in pain. Heard her sigh, knew her lips were so close, parted and welcoming, her warm breath a whisper against his own lips.  
Without a word, unable to speak, he pushed her away, releasing her arms, setting her gently away and stepping back.  
“Bao,” she said softly, and he heard the wound in her voice, knew he was causing it.  
“They're waiting for us,” he managed. “General.”  
“That is not my name,” she said, her mouth pulled tight, the barest tremble in her lip and her voice, those intense dark eyes soft with some kind of yearning.  
“I know,” he whispered. He swallowed. “I know, General.”  
She flinched and her eyes closed, hanging her head for just a moment.  
“Fine,” she said at last. “Let's get back.”


	6. Emrethe

Chapter 6

Bao leaned against the wall of the main hold of the Ebon Hawk. Everyone else had also come to gather here to discuss the mission. While G0T0 the floating droid and the Mandalore could usually be found here, the room was much more crowded with everyone present.  
“We found Master Vash dead, and Sion confronted us as we tried to leave,” Emrethe was saying. Bao thought she was purposely not looking toward him, but also thought perhaps he simply felt more raw and exposed at this moment than he usually did. She was busy. Her mind was exactly where it should be, on their mission. He couldn't bear it if he ended up being the distraction that tripped her up.  
He couldn't bear that attention, anyway, that soft look in her eyes, the way she'd leaned toward him in the cave, when he knew himself to be so intrinsically unworthy of it.  
“Sion murdered Lonna Vash?” Mira asked.  
“This whole mission was a big, dangerous waste of time,” Atton said. “And I think Sion let us go. We couldn't kill him.”  
“What do you mean, you couldn't kill him?” Mira asked, incredulously.  
“Trust me, it wasn't because he was too pretty to kill,” Emrethe said dryly. “He seems to be using the Dark Side of the Force to keep himself alive, even through wounds that should have killed him.”  
“Great,” Mira said. “I thought a crazy walking carpet stalking me forever was bad enough. You've got deathless Sith Lords after you.”  
“Turns out, you just didn't think big enough,” Atton said.  
T3 exploded with beeps and whistles, interrupting them.  
“A message from Kelborn at the Mandalorian camp?” Emrethe asked. “He says Kavar is sending for us,” she told the others. This time Bao noted she did glance at everyone except him. She glanced in his direction, but evaded eye contact. “It sounds urgent. Let's head back to Dxun.”

 

Bao followed Atton and Mira toward the ancient Sith Lord's tomb hidden away on Dxun. Emrethe had chosen to send them to deal with the new Sith overrunning the place rather than come with her to try to rescue Kavar on Onderon. She'd made the choice without looking at him, again, though she'd reached out as they were getting ready to leave and touched his hand, just the barest bit.  
“Too bad we don't have Mira with us,” Atton said, indicating the mine field ahead of them. “She could take all of these out of our way with her magic touch. No setting off the alarm.”  
Bao caught the quick glance Visas gave him at the mention of Mira's name.  
“I can go into stealth and take care of this in no time,” Bao said. “Just let me work.”  
“You may not be a spunky redhead with an acre of cleavage,” Atton said. “But I won't argue with results.”  
“If you're asking me to take my shirt off... you're not my type,” Bao said.  
“We all know your type,” Atton said, and Bao gave him a quick, startled look. “Lots of little moving parts to upgrade.” Relieved, Bao gave him a mild, enigmatic smile, and faded into stealth to take care of the minefield.

By the time they reached the center of the tomb to stop the ritual funneling Dark Side energy to the would-be usurper Vaklu's insurgent forces on Onderon, Bao was exhausted and Visas was limping, having injured herself shielding Atton at some point.  
Atton was as oblivious to her quiet protection as he was to her clearly growing feelings for the mouthy pilot. Bao was aware acutely, though, recognizing in her carefully controlled bearing something similar to the way he behaved around Emrethe.  
Atton himself, though, was stronger then ever and as fresh as when they'd entered the tomb. If anything, he was more centered than Bao had ever seen him. The other man had taken time to calm areas of swirling Dark Side energy through the force of his will, and his successes had brought him growth.  
His companions watched as Atton faced down the Sith leader and remained calm, even compassionate as the Sith sought to turn him to the Dark Side.  
Bao realized Emrethe had made the right choice, putting Atton in charge, that she'd felt this was something he needed to do in order to show him his own strength and capability.  
There was no time to explore that thought; the sound of the Siths' lightsabers activating meant the last battle of this tomb was on.

He stood at the head of the loading ramp of the Ebon Hawk, watching Atton tell Emrethe about the tomb. She'd rescued her old mentor and set the planet below to rights as best she could, and soon they'd all be headed back to Dantooine so she could meet with the Jedi Council, such as it was any more. Now she and Atton stood in the clearing just below the landing ramp, talking about what they'd faced.  
Visas came to stand at Bao's side, having just been to the med bay for Mical's expert care.  
“I wondered,” she said softly in her melancholy, melodic voice. “If she would fall in love with him. The way they joke together. How she calms him when his insides are all torn to pieces.”  
Bao looked away from Visas for a moment, forcing himself not to react.  
“He wasn't really in love with her,” he said after a while, watching the two they were discussing. “He didn't know what he felt, only that she drew him in. Now he knows who he is. What she is isn't his center now.”  
“No,” Visas agreed. “She isn't _his_ center.”  
Bao turned to see what she knew, but she was already halfway back to the starboard dormitory.

Bao came to, cradling his head, slowly sitting up. There had been intruders. The Handmaidens, servants of Atris, the Jedi archivist hidden away on Telos, come to collect Kreia. For what purpose, Bao couldn't say, whether to face justice or to join forces. Emrethe and Atton helped him up; they gathered up the rest of the group and met in the main hold.  
“The Council is dead,” Emrethe told them, devastated. “They tried to sever me from the Force. I collapsed, but before I lost consciousness I heard Kreia confront them. When I awoke, they were dead, and stripped of the Force themselves.”  
“Why did they want to strip the Force from you?” Mira asked. “Why would they do that?”  
“Again?” Atton added.  
“These new Sith,” Emrethe whispered. “The ones who feed off death and the Dark Side. They said I created them, that I am a wound in the Force. They wanted to cut me off from the Force to stop the damage I'm causing.”  
“That's absurd,” Mical said.  
“I let them try,” Emrethe said, interrupting as the others chimed in with their disbelief. They fell silent. “But Kreia must have stopped them. And I think she killed them. Or I did, somehow, a backlash from what they were trying to do to me.”  
“Pretty sure Kreia did it,” Atton said.  
“Definitely Kreia,” Mira agreed.  
“Of course the old witch did it,” Mandalore said.  
Emrethe held up her hand. “She's gone to Telos, to Atris' academy under the pole. Whatever she's planning, we need to stop her. So that's where we're heading now.”  
T3 whistled.  
“Atton, take us there?” At the pilot's nod, Emrethe sighed. “I am going to meditate and get myself ready for this. I suggest we all get some rest and tend to any injuries the Handmaidens caused when they overtook the ship to collect Kreia.”  
“I'll be in the med bay if anyone requires healing,” Mical said, giving Emrethe a worried look. Bao knew he and Emrethe usually meditated together, but the younger man had obviously picked up on Emrethe's desire to be alone. The Exile nodded at them, then turned away, heading for the port dormitory where she kept quarters.

After having his aching head seen to by Mical, Bao retreated to the engine room. In here, he could be alone; HK also hung out in the garage where Bao usually spent his time. He dragged a cot into the engine room with him, now he had a place to sit and sleep if needed. If he was being honest he wasn't craving time alone as much as time with Emrethe, reassuring himself that she was all right, offering her comfort if he could, and that wasn't allowed. He could not allow that, and after everything that had happened in that cave on Korriban, he was pretty certain she wouldn't allow it, either.  
From here he saw Mical leave the med bay once he'd finished aiding the injured and head toward the port dormitory. Bao waited to see if he'd come immediately back, having been sent away by Emrethe.  
Instead, Mical remained in the port dormitory, returning to the med bay some time later, his face thoughtful. The longer he'd stayed, the more Bao's gut had twisted itself around his spine in torment.  
While Bao hadn't felt Atton's romantic interest in the Exile was deep seated, he did believe Mical's feelings for the Exile were real enough. Perhaps she would accept his affections, affections Bao could not offer her.  
She was the General, he was just a Tech.  
So Bao sat on his cot, resting his head on his hands and his elbows on his thighs, breathing, reminding himself of who he was, and what was important.  
Besides, he allowed some small voice inside him to say, she's unlikely to be trysting with anyone in this moment.  
A motion caught his eye and he looked up in time to see Emrethe pause outside the medbay, about to go in. Sudden jealousy hit him like a fist pulling his heart out through his guts. She glanced up and met Bao's eyes and stilled, staring, for just a moment, then she turned and went into the medbay, closing the door behind her.  
His body heavy with the pain in his heart, he stood and closed the engine room door, then sat back on the cot, his head in his hands again. Breathe, don't think, it's not your business, he told himself.  
I should have kissed her in the cave, he thought, and forcefully silenced that thought.  
This is what you want, he reminded himself. It's what is best.  
It's what is best.  
He stood and punched the wall with his right hand, his non-mechanical hand.  
Breathe.  
He lay back on the cot, stilling himself, seeking out the center of himself. Not the center of pain, of anguish at his past, at his decisions, at what he'd made and put into action all those years ago, but that peaceful center she'd showed him when she made him a Jedi.  
Breathe, and remember that calm, that control.  
He knew through the bones of his body that she was being drawn back to Malachor, knew he could not follow her there. Everything that had happened led back to Malachor, to the Mass Shadow Generator they'd deployed there, destroying nearly everything in the battle around Malachor V, the Mandalorians and the Republic ships alike, crushing the planet itself into ruin. That was where she'd first lost her connection to the Force, that's where he'd lost his arm after losing his self. After that battle, she'd returned to face the judgment of the Council that first time, and gone into exile at their command.  
“There is no emotion, there is peace,” he said softly into the shadows and hum of the engine room. “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.”  
You always knew you'd watch her walk away from you in the end, he thought. You are here to help her do what she must do, nothing more.  
“There is no emotion, there is peace,” he said, again. “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”  
He heard the engine room door open, then close again behind her, and he stood to face her.  
“There is no passion, there is serenity?” she said, coming to stand close enough before him that he could feel the warmth of her body. He could not meet her eyes. “I think... I know the Jedi are wrong. About so much. There is so much I never knew before exile. So much I know now, knowledge I would never give back, as difficult as it has been some times.”  
He finally met her gaze, still unable to speak, waiting for her to do whatever urgent thing he could feel she'd come to do. His breath suspended at the warmth, the vulnerability and need in those splendid dark eyes.  
“Bao-Dur,” she said, not moving to touch him, though he felt as if she had.  
“You know where this ends,” he said at last, his quiet voice tight. “You know I can't go with you.”  
“Tell me you are with me while I face this,” she said. “Tell me that even if you are not at my side, you are with me, that we are together.”  
“We are all with you, General,” he said, his voice even more strained.  
“Bao,” she said, gently. “I want you to know what I feel for you. I want you to understand it.”  
“I can't-”  
“I love you. And if you'll let me, when this all ends, I will come to you. Tell me _you_ are with me, _we_ are together, you and I.”  
There were no words he could speak, there was nothing he could say, even if he could make his voice work as it should. Finally he reached out, pulled her close and anchored her against his chest. “Emrethe,” he said, barely a whisper. She gave a great sigh of relief and raised her face to meet his kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old unfinished fan fiction I am finally finishing. I am sorry to the several people I left hanging before. Originally posted at kfm, which is now defunct.


End file.
